I Will Dominate
by And Frankly
Summary: A normal human ripped from their world, trapped within the Prothean ruins on Therum for 50 000 years in an unfamiliar body, he needs to join with Shepard, it's the only thing that's familiar. Not just a rehash, protagonists choices will have drastic ramifications on the world. An attempt at a realistic 'alien' protagonist story where he isn't overpowered and boring. Minor SC2 xover
1. Chapter 1

**Labelled as important but really not**

Before we get started it is important to know that yes, I deliberately didn't write a back story or 'happening' of where the character came from or how he got there. Sorry, no random sucking into a television today. Also, I'm trying for an angle of what a relatively 'normal' person would do in these situations - to see how the character transforms from a regular person throughout the story. No, he won't be human, but he _was._

Now this idea has been floating around in my head for a long time. I plan to make this fully fledged, encompassing the three games. I have a fair amount of time for the next three weeks, however that probably will not matter since I hope to prewrite the next several chapters (and post one every two days. Or week. Or something).

 **Relatively important**

This has been written in a 'journal type' format with estimated dates. Other chapters won't be. Character has no real concept of time, however it is there to provide context to the reader. Because time in ME is all weird, we will assume that years are in Earth years, unless stated otherwise. After these journal entry things it will evolve into an actual story.

 _Really low level Starcraft crossover. Remember that the Protheans warred with the Reapers for several hundred years. It is likely there were ex-Prothean systems they had abandoned which the reapers would still need to destroy all evidence of life from._

 **LotV stuffs (char power scope)**

When I originally drafted this I had based it around the HotS hybrids - the ones almost able to kill Kerrigan (who was fairly strong). Main character will be more in tune with these newer hybrids - nothing to sneeze at but not a one man slaughterhouse. Just imagine another Wrex or Shepard.

* * *

 **Day 1 - Waking up in the facility**

He stared at the barrier in front of him. Every now and then it would waver - just a little bit. He'd woken up here, already completely restrained. It was horrifying at first, but after what seemed like mere seconds he had already exhausted his strength. He had struggled - twisting, contorting, and pulling his limbs like a drowning man in a vain effort to remove the energy shackles holding him in place.

He couldn't really say that he had much experience with situations like this; heck, he wasn't even human.

That had come as a shock. After groggily forcing his eyes open, staring down at the ice grey colour of his flesh had really done a number on his stomach. Or where used to be his stomach. He wasn't quite sure what was going on down there anymore.

This had led him to his next revelation - he had no mouth. He couldn't talk. He had no idea if he _could_ even talk. In fact, he was ninety percent sure he had extra things. Stuff that wasn't there. He was fairly sure he had some kind of tentacles sprouting from his back, but he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to check yet, even though he _was_ fairly sure that there were a bunch of tentacles waving around behind him.

He could feel the power, if that made sense. He'd always been kind of envious of animals. Not of their existence, but of their often physical superiority over Humans. Tigers, Lions, Jaguars, they were all natural born predators. They had bodies that were rippling with strength, built over thousands of years of survival of the fittest, ready to overcome the harsh conditions of the wild.

That was how his body felt right now. He could feel the lean power inside of his funny-looking silver limbs, yet despite this new-found strength he could not get out of the shackles - he couldn't even take an inch. They bound him, strung him up like a prisoner of old, locked away in the castle dungeons.

And he hated it.

It was degrading, and he had no idea if he was being watched now. Was anyone even looking for him? He'd had a life before, and to suddenly disappear...

He knew it would impact his family. His mum. His dad.

Hell, who was meant to give treats to the dogs if he wasn't around?

He already missed them, the homesickness slicing through his weak stomach-thing.

It had only been three hours.

But he didn't know that.

 **Day 8 - Beginning of Waver Standard Time**

He had quickly realised that he had no concept of time here. There was no clock, there was nothing telling him the time. The lights in the facility had slowly been getting dimmer, and his view out through the energy-barrier-thing had been quickly fading. He'd taken his time looking around - well, looking around as much as he could. If he couldn't tell any better, it seemed like he was in some kind of prison, or something. It struck him as familiar - the whole place, it really tugged at his memory, it teased his tongue (yes, he could imagine himself having a tongue if he wanted to, damn it), tickling it's tip but never actually revealing where he was.

His dull eyes stared forward at the barrier. He'd thought of his own time system, it was genius really. The waver of the barrier seemed to be fairly constant, and so he'd decided that this would be how he would count time. He would pioneer the waver-time system.

Over the last few hundred wavers his tentacles had also made an annoying intrusion. He had been staring at the barrier, vaguely aware of what was going on, yet focused on not losing count when these glowing blue _things_ had dropped into his field of vision.

Not only had he lost count of the bloody wavers, but he'd accidentally brushed one of the glowing appendages against the electric-energy-shackle-things which were holding him in place.

The shock really put funny bones to shame. His tentacle-jerk reaction had flung the blasted appendage backwards and into the roof of the damned place. If he could bruise, then his ruddy tentacle would be purple for days.

 **Day 18 - 5 020 wavers from WST (beginning of Waver Standard Time)**

He'd figured it out! He could realise how bloody daft he'd been! It was obvious from the beginning - it was those crappy ruins from those Mass Effect games, it was the ruins where that Liara person had got themselves trapped. Well, it was the same style. He was being a bit optimistic, really, since he knew if it _was_ actually the same ruins then he would eventually be rescued.

Then again, if it wasn't those ruins, he was going to be waiting a long time.

A very long time.

This wasn't the ideal situation, either. He wasn't the biggest fan of the series - he'd played through it once or twice, but it's not like he had taken the time to memorize every tiny detail, as it was he barely remembered anything aside from the major plot points.

So much potential, but in this new body, there was absolutely _no way_ he could stay out of the spotlight. And wouldn't even have the advantage that Javik had later in the series - by that time people were used to Shepard's travelling circus.

But... That left some choices. He could always, well, leave Shepard. Shepard would be able to stop the reapers on his/her own, without his help, that is, if this new world stuck true to the games.

He could just hide away - live away from everyone else and experience this world on his own, without the imminent risk of death that plagued Shepard.

Then again all this brainstorming could be for nothing.

He could be in another universe or whatever entirely. It could be Star Wars, X-COM, something completely different.

And yet, it wouldn't matter what world he had arrived in. As such a strange creature, he was sure to be a catalyst for trouble.

And the real question came down to whether he would be able to deal with that trouble.

 **Day 31 - 11 501 wavers from WST**

It felt like an age. It really did. He could swear it had been at least a bloody year, _at least_. He didn't really know, anyway, since his concept of time had been completely _fucked_ since finding himself in this god-forsaken hell-hole. It had been slightly, _slightly_ interesting at first. Looking around, playing with his tentacles, but now he was out of things to do. And it was killing him. What he had found out, however, was that he didn't need sleep.

At least, not like he used to. He had been growing increasingly weary since finding himself in the buff grey halls. He had tried to sleep, but it didn't work. He could force himself to sleep, in the traditional sense. He would fall asleep. An unknown amount of time would pass. He would wake up.

Just as tired as when he went to sleep. He knew it was getting increasingly dangerous - everything needed energy. He didn't want to die in this shithole, to pass away without anyone even acknowledging his existence. He'd stared around the room, eyes swinging. There had to be someone watching him, they wouldn't have put him here, otherwise.

This sheer panic, this final struggle against what he thought was the inevitable, had caused what may as well be his greatest discovery while shackled in the air.

He'd swung one of his glowing tentacle things around, and it had struck the barrier in front of him. It wasn't like that time he'd struck the shackles, instead, he'd felt the energy flowing _into_ him, if it made any sense. With this discovery, he'd slapped his tentacles against that barrier and sat twiddling his thumbs. The energy was incredible, it was intoxicating with just how _ready_ he felt.

This, combined with what seemed to be a hibernation mode, had him already laying plans. Time didn't matter when one was asleep anyway. His only problem with this was if he was in _too_ deep, and he missed his chances at a rescue.

 **Day 407 - 199 505 wavers from WST**

He couldn't believe it. He'd succeeded, kind of. He gave a quick tentacle-pump before assessing his successful experiment with his sleep-state.

He'd managed, with all his incredible willpower and strength, to enter an extremely light state of sleep, with the fact that a particularly strong waver of the barrier waking him up being a testament to this fact. It couldn't have been much time at all, really. If he could do this more often, he could hopefully hibernate his way to freedom.

No effort required.

Of course he would need to estimate when these 'wake wavers' would happen, so that he could base how long he was sleeping off it.

 **Day 408 - 200 341 wavers from** **WST**

He had it. A strong flicker would strike the barrier every 400 wavers or so - give or take five. Despite all the fun he'd had counting and recounting the wavers between the particularly strong flickers, he had no wish to do it again. It was a better time to start than any, really. He'd begun to feel rather weary, and so using his strong innovation skills he propped up one of his tentacles against the barrier, and drifted off to sleep.

 **Day 2718 -** **1 355 211 wavers from WST**

Rescue was near. He knew it. He could feel the rumbling. His vast recollection skills had informed him that the rumbling of the planet and the crunching of the stone was Shepard using the mining drill to free Liara from her shackles.

This was good, and very, _very_ bad. This meant that this place would likely have the power fail soon. This was good, because he could hopefully find his way up somehow.

It was also _incredibly_ bad because lava would soon flood this whole place, and despite his new appearance he really doubted that he could withstand thousands of tonnes of lava pressing down upon him.

Today was his lucky day, however. Or his unlucky day, depending on if he felt optimistic or pessimistic, since the rumbling was not in fact the mining drill, rather it was a kinetic bombardment. This realization was crushing. He would either experience a whole new world, or he had _thousands_ of years to wait.

Neither was appealing.

He knew it was the Reapers. He couldn't explain it, but he could literally _feel_ the indoctrination attempting to influence his mind, the seductive shadows attempting to nip at his thoughts, to inject themselves into his very mind. Despite the malevolent threat of indoctrination, he could feel his mind repulsing it - his body seemed to have some kind of antibodies against them, the dark influence being pushed from his mind before it could even take root.

This was bad news. Extremely bad news. Since the lack of Protheans in the facility meant that the reapers had already cleaned them out - and he was placed there after the annihilation had already ended. This also meant the the Reapers would now be bombarding the planet to remove all traces of life.

His situation was just shit. And he knew it. He knew it was 50/50 if he would live. All he could do was pray, just fucking pray that nothing they did caused the little hell-hole he was hiding in to be submerged in lava. Being awake wouldn't save him, he knew. He couldn't move anyway, and the shackles binding him in place were as strong as ever.

Hell, he'd rather die in blissful sleep than experience the horrors of being burned alive.

He propped up his tentacle against the barrier again, and began to shut his mind down; at least he would be able to hibernate, or sleep, or deactivate. Whatever he hell it was.

It would all be over in an instant. He would either wake up to painful agony, or wake up to another kind of rumbling.

The rumbling of a mining drill.

 **Year 188, Day 225 - End of waver standard time, Earthern Year 47,803 BC**

He'd awoken with a rude shock. The barrier which he had drawn his power from, his energy, and flickered harshly, actually turning off for a brief moment, waking him up.

This wasn't optimal.

He knew enough now to know that he had to draw energy from somewhere, and that barrier had been a nice recharge station. He didn't know what he was. He didn't know how long he could last. He didn't know if the low rumbling he could hear was the place collapsing under the terrifying power of seismic activity, the planet voicing its anger at its intruder, or if it was simply explosions, the awe inspiring power of modern chemistry bringing the planet to its knees.

He didn't want to know, either. Ignorance was bliss.

These kinds of thoughts had been put off. He'd taken the blissful ignorance at first, ignoring the fact that he'd wound up in a strange place, in a strange body, with no real ability to experience time. And now the thoughts were really striking home. Could he talk? What's happening back home? Would he live? So many questions he could not answer.

So much unfinished business.

He still didn't know what an analytical continuation of a product log function was.

It was times like these where his frustration really showed. He wanted to lash out - verbally, physically, heck, even a mental lashing would be better than this. He could feel the cabin fever kicking in. He couldn't look behind him, for starters. In front of him was a tiny pocket of what he presumed was a cave system of some kind, but no light shone there. It was blank, empty space, only illuminated by the dull glow of a failing barrier, and he had no clue where it went, if it even led anywhere.

He renewed his efforts at twisting out of the shackles, but like he had experienced within his first moments in this new, pitiful existence, they refused to slip free.

He no longer cared what time it was. He couldn't count the wavers - and he was fairly sure they were inconsistent too. The barrier had abandoned him. He twisted his neck to the side, glaring at the chains of energy keeping him bound in place.

As a last resort, he guess he could smack his tentacles around those things and hold on. He shuddered at the thought of touching them. It had been pure agony last time he'd done that, and he was in no hurry to test his luck any time soon.

Yeah, it was his last resort for sure.

It felt like a lifetime ago, that he had arrived here. And the whole thing just sucked, on a fundamental level it just god-damned sucked, a twisted mockery of what life should be.

He slowly felt himself slip into unconsciousness, and he let it happen. If he could save energy hibernating or whatever, then who was to care? He might live to see daylight, but without the whole waiting-for-forever thing.

What a depressing thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Year 50,177 - Earthern Year 2183 AD**

He jerked awake, his heart already racing as he crumpled to the floor. It was comparable to waking up from nightmares, except this time, he was waking up _to_ a nightmare. There was no grogginess, no period before full awakening occurred. He was sharply awake from point zero, he knew what was going on and was fully aware.

But that didn't mean he could see, it didn't mean he could make _sense_ with his awareness.

He was blinded by the brightness, his senses being overwhelmed by the overload of audio, visuals, and sensory information that his brain was processing.

But he wasn't in some kind of super-body for nothing, because even as he groaned at the white light blinding his eyes, and the rumbling thunder of protesting rock crashing into his ears, his brain was rapidly processing through the vast swathes of information, sorting it and making sense of the extremes he was presented with.

He looked over his body, his silver-grey body a pathetic silhouette on the ground.

He glimpsed his face on the smooth, reflective surface of his cell for the first time, though visage might be a more accurate descriptor.

He seemed to be a Hybrid destroyer, from Starcraft, his brain clearly visible through his head.

Which, to be honest, was just plain disturbing.

He took the moment to run a damage check - the good news was that he felt more rejuvenated, more energetic than he ever had in his whole stint in this god forsaken place, and that the cuffs seemed to have completely shorted out, leaving him with a pair of manacles on both his legs and arms, which while mildly heavy, seemed to have no other effects.

The bad news?

A great pool of magma was licking at his backside, he knew he wasn't touching it, but he could just _feel_ the energy rolling off it, like a supernova, it was rejuvenating, it some sense. It seemed to light up his nerves, sending a yearning tingling through his whole body. The rumbled, it shook about like it was trying to free itself from the clutching talons of the devil himself, raw, unbalanced twisting which only a desperate man could pull off.

He knew that he needed to get out of there, and fast - it was only logical. Magma was _not_ something he wanted to deal with, and well, whatever was rocking this place apart had surely opened a path to the surface _somewhere_ , and if it hadn't, then he could always make one - this new-found power vibrated through his whole body, it felt as if it was literally begging to be used for something destructive.

And tearing down the walls of this prison sure seemed like a good way for him to release this power.

Rising to his feet, he immediately propelled himself forward into the cave system, there is no time available for wasting, there is no room for second guessing. He needed to just put his best foot forward, and damn hope that it led him out of these god-damn tunnels, the tunnels which were now lit up like the blinding sun, a stark contrast to the previous inky blackness which coated the passageways.

He sprinted, one foot thundering after another, his dual-jointed legs providing powerful leverage that his human legs would have never been able to match. He powered through the corridors and passageways, a right turn, a left, the middle path, whatever he saw first, there was no hesitation in his silver eyes - simply the brutal power of determination leading him out of this literal hell, the hell which would devour him in its scorching flames.

A dead end.

He flung himself backwards, but the magma was crawling behind him already rising up to the twisting stone path he had just taken.

His choice had cost him.

He twisted sharply, eyes filling with panic. His keen eyes zeroed in on a small crevice leading into another set of tunnels - not enough to get through naturally, not by far, but still something to work with.

He was barely aware of the power building at his fingertips, the electricity balling in his fists, positively swarming with destructive power.

He crashed his might against the small crevice, chunking the rock, cracking it, sending it all over the dead end, not quite widening it.

The heat crept up behind him, only empowering him further. It was ironic that which would burn him would also give him power.

Energy again rolled across his forearms, once again smashing into the rocks. It was futile, and he knew it.

Again, the crackling of raw power smashed against the now sizable crevice, except this time instead of sending stone flying the floor cracked and gave way, the structural vulnerabilities of the natural cave system being highlighted by the ludicrous situation, the floor caving in what lay below, allowing him to progress further.

He wasted no time, the dust was still thick in the air when he charged through it, leaping across chunks of rubble which had rolled from the pile. The magma would catch him quickly, as progressing down an incline would be faster than its previous slow climb.

He kept his speed up, even as the lighting became worse and worse as he ripped through the corridors, a harsh, uncoordinated destructive force lacking any finesse whatsoever. His mind had officially entered survivor mode - any and all thought processes dealing with anything other than survival had been cut, his instincts of self preservation kicking in, forcing his body forward through the unknown tunnels.

The passageway narrowed and straightened out, which was different to the twisting and sporadic patterns which mapped out his previous routes. There was a light ahead, a dull greeny-blue, but still a light. He charged onward - he would find out what it was soon enough. He rapidly approached, his enhanced eyes quickly absorbing the information presented before him.

It was a geth unit.

This meant two things.

One, his theory about it being mass effect was confirmed.

And two, he needed to take out this geth and keep moving. If this place was coming down around them, then it probably meant they had already using the mining laser drill to bust out Liara, which meant he had minutes, at a maximum, before this place became inundated with scorching lava.

He felt the energy building within him, this time his whole body.

He didn't slow down, instead he kept up his blinding pace and dropped his shoulder, forcing the strange power through his body, ready to ram into the lone geth unit.

The moment of impact; he didn't think it would ever be one he could forget. The sickening crunch of the geth as it crumpled beneath his body slam was sickening, the metal twisting beyond recognition as hydraulic fluid splattered all over the cave system, the lightning provided by its headpiece rapidly fading to black.

He stared at its defeated form, he could feel the energy he had lost while performing the charge, and with no magma in this section of the cave system yet he knew he wouldn't be getting it back anytime soon.

He continued, forcing his now weary legs in front of him, forcing them to propel him further, faster. The rough, natural aesthetic of the cave quickly descended into the smooth and manufactured profile of an engineered tunnel, the smooth walls being lit up by an array of torches, an alarm system blaring its ugly tones for all to hear.

Well, just him really.

He progressed through the tunnels, a bit slower this time. He checked every corridor as he passed them - it seemed to the place behind the energy cells where Shepard had shut off the power system in the game, which could be good or bad, and well, he'd rather be optimistic.

The weariness was setting in, he felt the lethargic undertone setting themselves into his skin, not quite affecting him but definitely letting him know he needed a rest, or energy, or something. He power-walked through the smooth metal prison, the tremors seemingly subdued - possibly because he was closer to the surface.

He _felt_ the coming before he saw them, for lack of a better word.

He spun left and raised his hands, pooling energy into his arms, raising them to cover his face and upper torso from the sustained fire of the geth. The bullets impacted his arms, shimmering electric blue before dissipating entirely.

He didn't give them a second chance, he spun back behind him, taking cover around the corner as their fire smacked against the Prothean metal separating him from them. His heart thumped anxiously in his chest, actually sending vibrations throughout his chest as it forced blood through his body.

He forced more power into his hands, but unlike the other times he could feel the move diminishing the small amount of energy he had left.

He threw the power at the geth, just like he had when smashing the crevice, and was rewarded with a splatter of hydraulic fluid before spinning back into cover, this time around the opposite corner. He heard the sound of metal on metal, the sound of the geth pushing his position. He pooled the energy again, this time in his fists.

He hoped robots could be surprised.

He waited until he felt as if the geth was right next to him, before spinning around the corner and smashing his fists into the geths chest.

The poor thing never stood a chance as it crumpled under the attack, quite literally falling apart before his very eyes.

The geth meant Shepard was here, and they wouldn't be here for no reason - they weren't like that.

He abandoned his previous search pattern and powered through the area the geth had been residing in, quickly progressing through the halls.

It wasn't long before he came across an opening, an opening with a powerful mining laser lined up with it, the rubble hinting at the firepower the laser packed within its shell. He began the climb up the rubble, pieces moving underneath his hands and feet, before his poor decision making was caught by his overworked brain.

He needed to go back - the elevator thing was behind him, as that now empty cell was where Liara had been trapped.

He allowed himself to fall, landing heavily on his knees and hands, rushing back to the halls with renewed energy. He was such an idiot, he must have gone past the blasted elevator shaft on his way there.

He glared upwards at the shaft, the elevator must have already risen. Probably a fair amount of time ago too, judging by when the tremors had started. He felt the heat of the lava before he saw it. Instead of damning him, he felt the energy begin to gather again within his body, rejuvenating his tired limbs.

Perhaps he would receive salvation through damnation again.

He gathered energy at both his feet and fists, letting more and more energy into his extremities, converting his energy into raw power basically as he got it. He bent his dual-jointed legs, before launching himself upwards at the bottom of the elevator.

He punched through like an armour piercing round through concrete - which he may as well have been. He landed on the side, the elevator already beginning to give way from the forceful intrusion.

The krogan warlord lay dead - Shepard had already been through here.

This wasn't good, not in the slightest.

His tired limbs found new strength, his survival instincts once against kicking into overdrive.

The lava rose behind him, the energy once again filling his body.

But this time he wasn't sticking around for a pick-me-up.

He charged straight ahead, straight through the archway.

His legs powered him forward, before his own energy seemed to kick in on its own volition, empowering his legs with the force he used to launch himself through the floor of the elevator.

His crashing steps now resembled mini-jumps more than anything else, his grey body essentially flying through the metal walkways.

He crashed into the guard rail, his momentum dangerous bending the metal, before transferring his momentum forwards and back onto the relatively unsafe collapsing framework.

There! The incline!

He knew this must be the surface, the portal between this underground dungeon and the outside world. He renewed his efforts, now simply propelling himself via the energy coursing through his body, his feet not making contact with the metal surface.

The exit lay just ahead, the cords on the ground a tripping hazard if he was still running.

Twenty metres from the exit and he felt the heat wave smash into his back.

Ten metres from the exit and he felt his body begin to intake power from the intense lighting of the magma.

Five metres, and he felt the biggest tremor yet, smashing his head against the ceiling.

Through the exit, and he felt the lava spurt out behind him.

He paid it no mind, for directly in his field of vision was the Normandy.

He felt the energy pooling beneath him, forcing himself further, higher, he needed this, this was his ticket out. His survival instincts recognised the sleek ship as his salvation, and his speed increased further, his horizontal body resembling a missile more than a person-thing at this moment in time.

The Normandy's bay was closed.

He collided with the side of the ship, and latched on with his tentacles, finding every nook and cranny and forcing his blue appendages into them, latching on as tightly as he could, his energy-powered grip securing him tightly against the side of the Normandy.

If he was a Hybrid from Starcraft, then he was space proof - which was likely seeing as they didn't seem to use any other form of interplanetary travel.

 _'And god damn, being spaced to death must be better than being boiled alive in the depths of hell.'_

* * *

"Unfortunately I do not have any information that could help you find the conduit - or Saren." Liara herself sounded disappointed at this fact, Shepard mused. He supposed it wasn't a complete waste of time - she might be useful when confronting Benezia. She seemed so eager to please, it was surprisingly innocent, it actually threw him off guard for a moment.

He composed himself, gathering his thoughts, before replying "I don't know why Saren wanted you out of the picture, but I think we will be a lot better off if we bring you along." It was true, after all. She likely had fairly decent biotic abilities, as well as a large repertoire of information on the Protheans.

"Thank you commander, Saren may come after me again. I can think of no where safer than on your ship, and my knowledge of the Protheans may be useful later on."

 _That is true after all,_ Shepard mused, _it would be unlikely for Saren to just, give up, after we have taken her. He went to a fair amount of effort to get their in the first place._

Wrex's grunt cut into the conversation, clearly audible throughout the room, "And her biotics will come in handy when the fighting starts." Shepard turned his head, and gave a nod of acknowledgement. He knew fighting.

What he didn't know was almost everything else.

Shepard turned back to Liara, his words reassuring and steady, "Well, good to have you on the team Liara."

With their impromptu interrogation session over, Liara tiredly proclaimed she needed rest. Shepard wasn't really listening - he did have a _lot_ of things on his mind, the beacon, Saren, his spectre status; it was all in such a very short time. Before anyone could direct Liara over to the medical bay, the intercom crackled to life and Joker's voice rang out.

"Commander?" His voice was hesitant, the wise-ass completely eliminated from his tone.

"Joker?" Shepard was just as confused, Joker wouldn't interrupt unless it was fairly important - all the banter was over now, he was more of an in-the-moment kind of person.

"Uh... Commander, there appears to be, uh, _something_ latched on the bottom of the ship." From Joker's manner Shepard knew he wasn't fooling around, this was serious, and it also had the potential to be really, really bad.

"What do you mean Joker? Why didn't we notice it sooner?"

"It wasn't there when you started the debriefing, and uh, I was fairly busy listening in, it's small - it didn't even come up until I began standard checks." Joker's reply was swift - no nonsense.

Shepard quickly reacted - they had an unknown, possibly geth, form under their bay, with the potential to cause serious problems.

"Alright, Wrex, Garrus, with me. Get your breathers on, if this thing is a bomb, or gets the bay open, we need to be capable of withstanding a bit of space. Someone take Liara to the medical bay, get some eyes on her. Joker, any more info on the unknown?" Shepard himself was all business now, his voice making it obvious why he was the commander.

"Only thing I'm getting is that it's organic commander - whatever it is, it's alive, and space ain't doing a thing to it." Shepard's blood ran cold, this situation could be very, very bad.

He hated unknowns.

He pulled his breather helmet on.

* * *

"Wrex, take point over in front of the Mako, Garrus set up on the opposite side, by those crates." Shepard's orders came swift and professional as he took cover behind the support beams in the centre of the bay. Sit tight, and stay frosty, there is a high chance that it is hostile! The plan is to land on Armeni, clear out whatever it is, and then head back to the citadel."

The muffled sounds of moving armour filled the air, both Garrus and Wrex moving to their allocated positions before being suddenly replaced by the deathly silence that waiting could only bring.

It was like a stakeout with a predetermined timer on it.

"Shepard, what in the Spirits' name are we dealing with?" Garrus' undertoned voice cut across the silence, emanating out from his position by the crates, his rifle still propped up, ready to fire at a moments notice.

Shepard deliberated before replying to Garrus, recollecting and organising all the facts in his mind for better regurgitation, "It's organic, and it's still alive. It's already lived through one atmospheric entry, so chances are it's still gonna be alive when we land. Other than that not much, according to Liara it's possibly something native to Therum, probably undiscovered, which would have latched on before we took off."

The silence wasn't even the worst part of the waiting, it was the simple fact that on the other side of the floor there was something _alive_ , something clinging to the bottom of the ship, simply hitching a ride through the atmosphere like it was nothing. Shepard knew that even though no one was saying anything, everyone was jumpy. The unknown was feared for a very good reason, and they had a nice little chunk of it sitting outside their door, so to speak.

"All right Shepard, atmospheric entry in about a minute. Brace yourselves in there. We'll see if it hangs on through this one." Joker's voice ground out over the intercom, his tone betraying naught as to what he felt about the issue.

"Shepard." Wrex's gravelly voice pierced his eardrums like a sharp knife through warm butter.

Shepard didn't bother looking at Wrex, keeping his attention on the objective, awaiting the entry, however nonetheless he replied simply, "Yes Wrex?"

"Can we shoot it?" Wrex sounded more than slightly eager, for some reason.

"Not until we know for sure it's a threat. If it isn't, we will drop it back Therum or something. I mean we _could_ just leave it there, for some reason I'm not to keen transporting it back if it turns out to be dangerous. It could still prove to be hostile, we won't know for sure." Shepard's unwavering voice was swift to reply and decisive in its contents. They wouldn't needlessly slaughter something just because it grabbed onto their ship and was a potentially lethal safety hazard.

"Uh... I'll take that as maybe." Wrex stared at Shepard long after he'd finished speaking, he'd obviously phased out somewhere after 'not until', which, for some reason, did not surprise Shepard.

"Entering atmosphere Shepard, let's see if it hangs on this time."

* * *

The world was burning around him.

Or at least, behind him.

The flames licked at his back constantly, he knew something must be holding them back, possibly the barriers, who cares, it was barely draining his shields. All that mattered was the fact that they were going to land, and this sure as shit did not look like Noveria, or the Citadel. He wasn't sure where they went next, after Therum, he didn't remember in any case.

He had no idea how close the ground was, he'd managed to get a view of the planet out of the corner of his eye as they approached, but that was about it - he'd seen enough of it to know that it was neither the Citadel or Noveria, however he honestly hadn't known what he would have done if they'd gone to either, since they would have required travel via mass relay.

That was quite a thought.

If he remembered right, which was unlikely, and he wasn't getting his games mixed up, then he would probably be within the ships mass effect field, meaning he would probably just get catapulted with the ship. Or get eviscerated, but either way he wasn't going to risk testing his theory.

He clung on for dear life.

He didn't have his actual hands grabbing on, instead his blue tentacle things had grabbed onto anything that stuck out, a groove, a lump, an indent, whatever - it was grabbed, and there was no way he was letting go.

He checked over his shoulder again, the ground was getting closer, probably around 200 metres or so, but it's not like he was a guessing expert or anything. The fire had stopped a while ago, the cool air on his skin was a nice contrast to the burning inferno which had attempted to fry his brains only minutes previously. In all honesty it was probably a blessing he didn't grab the ship with his actual hands, it was probably superheated to the point his hands would be melted onto it.

Though it might not be, he didn't know much about ships - or how they shed heat.

The sharp screeching of the air rushing past deafened him, his ears unable to perceive sound correctly as the wind screamed into his ear. He had no doubt that if he still had a nose and a mouth, he would be struggling to breathe due to the sheer speed the air was rushing past his face at - it would be like trying to catch a falling anvil with your arms, it just wouldn't work.

Other than the whole desperately-clutching-to-the-bottom-of-a-spaceship situation he was doing fairly well, his first time space had been much more frightening than he'd expected - the daunting, endless expanse had been absolutely terrifying, just knowing that if he'd slipped he would have flown with no control until he hit something. Though, he was sure that hybrids were capable of interstellar travel on their own, since they had move interplanetary, so he must be able to _somehow_.

He knew they must be landing soon, probably to check him out, if he imagined it from their perspective something had grabbed onto the bottom of their ship, and was possibly dangerous. He was foolish to think they wouldn't notice someone piggybacking a ride on their starship, chances are someone has either thought of it and done it, or just thought of it and taken measures against it.

It's hardly an original idea after all, people were doing it back on Earth in his time. Aeroplanes were similar to starships, after all, and if people could hide in their wheel-bay things then people could probably hide somewhere in starships too.

In fact he had no idea how he was going to play this.

Going off Shepard's track record in the games, he would probably recruit him _if_ he could demonstrate he wasn't dangerous, but even then usually Shepard had time to think about it, to assess whether the recruit was a threat. Shepard probably didn't even know he was capable of thinking for himself, they might actually think he's a plant or organism which latched onto the ship as a knee-jerk reaction, and if Shepard opened fire on sight he _really_ doubted he would be able to fight them off.

He glanced over his shoulder again, he could see a flat plain of land, it was fairly obvious they would be making a stop soon. No amount of mental preparation would ready him for what was to come.

It was probably better to just make it up as he went along anyway; the best lies are based on truth anyway.

There was minutes, hell, maybe just seconds, before they landed. This was the moment, his new life, it started here for real.

If Shepard took him in, it would be a struggle. The next few years, would be an absolute slog, but it didn't matter, because unlike waiting around in a cave system on some lava ridden good-for-nothing planet, it would be at least _somewhat_ predictable.

He could deal with that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh yeah, if you find any inconsistencies or errors don't hesitate in letting me know. I try to read all reviews. I'm not a fan of people replying to reviews as a header, though I will do it if anyone wants, and it will only be well thought out reviews.**

 **SomeGuy: I play lottery defence custom map a lot on sc2, and they're my favourite unit. On the topic of otherkin, everyone is entitled to their own beliefs. I reserve my opinion as long as it doesn't affect me :)**

 **I don't really know anything about technology so if it comes up it will just be a lot of jargon without any details; think like crime shows.**

 **Hybrid voice: (warning, lines are kind of cringe and voice is loud. Turn down speakers) www . youtube watch?v=uiwnP23GV_8**

* * *

"Ok commander, I'm bringing her down. Have fun down there and try to keep the shots _away_ from the Normandy. If we have another Therum I might break my skull head-butting the controls."

Biting sarcasm, dry humour.

Joker's had his own, unique way of dealing with stress. Not that it was unwelcome, Shepard did find it slightly amusing, if a little morbid at times. Wrex had relaxed since they'd started, obviously growing bored with the lack of action. His shotgun was propped up against a crate he'd dragged over, and he was leaning against the Mako obviously wishing there was something other than absolutely nothing happening.

Shepard made eye contact with Wrex, then Garrus. Wrex grunted before lifting his shotgun and stretching, Garrus looked like he wanted to say something, but whatever it was, it wasn't coming out. He looked back between them, both busy with their own pre-event habits. Garrus seemed to be checking over his rifle, while Wrex was hefting his shotgun from side to side, warming himself up for the expected confrontation.

Garrus finally spit out the words he'd been choking on for the past few minutes, the words coming out in a bit of a rush, "Shepard, shouldn't we, uh, get the rest of the squad in here. It's not like we're limited to just three people. That would be stupid."

He really did make a good point. Wrex and Garrus were good, but having three extra people, two being biotics, covering your asses, seemed to make so much more sense than heading out in a three man squad. He projected his voice around the bay, knowing Joker would be listening in, "Joker, I want Ashley, Kaidan and Tali down here as well. And get the asari too, Liara or whatever her name was. I want everyone locked and loaded, we have no idea what this thing can or can't do. The atmosphere on Armeni is thin. I barely understand what this means, but everyone needs breathers and space helmets. We take no unnecessary risks today. "

"They'll be coming commander. Just sit tight for now." Joker really wasn't wasting any time this around. Despite his previous biting humour, he was obviously deadly serious about this situation - they couldn't afford not to be.

Shepard took the time to suit up, though barely a minute had passed before the reinforcements arrived, Liara panting heavily.

Shepard looked her up and down, realising one very important detail was missing. He coughed awkwardly, before rubbing the bridge of his nose and stating, "Liara, why aren't you wearing a helmet? I asked for helmets."

"I don't require a helmet; only a breather. I thought everyone knew that?" Liara replied slowly, seemingly confused, but not as confused as Shepard. Shepard rubbed the top of his helmet, before saving face and turning to face the currently retracted ramp. He took a moment to shake off the nerves, getting the blood flowing to his cramped muscles. He directed the three reinforcements to form up behind him, before hailing Joker.

Shepard leaned back, stretching his diaphragm. He gripped his avenger tightly in both hands, before reaching up decisively to his helmet and activating his comm link to the cockpit.

"Joker, drop the ramp. Let's do this now. Liara, get behind us and provide support with your biotics. Wrex, I want you to sit on the ramp and make sure it doesn't come in. The rest of you, form up and be ready to give us covering fire. It can't hit us while we're shooting it." Once again reminding everyone why he was an N7 commando, his voice filled with authority and confidence - things that only years of training combined with a natural talent for leading could bring.

Seconds passed, though it seemed like it was much, much longer than that, before Joker finally gave the all clear.

"Lowering ramp. Break a leg out there."

* * *

Nothing had moved for what felt like hours, and it was absolutely killing him. The cargo hatch hadn't moved, the ship hadn't moved, there was hardly any noise on this rock, it was silent, and it was wearing through his patience rapidly.. He actually kind of missed the whistling of the wind as it rushed past him, the stimulation the biting wind provided to his skin leaving him feeling oddly alone.

He'd expected them to be quick - drop the ramp and rush out.

Instead they'd been here, and for some reason his new appendages were growing weary much more quickly than when he was hanging on for dear life. They began to shake from the strain, and he made the decision to drop - he would need to conserve his energy for the events that were to come, and holding on any longer didn't seem to hold any obvious advantages.

He dropped.

He landed with an extremely solid thud, his fall completely graceless, more akin to a cannonball falling to the ground than a practised fall. His legs broke his fall at an extremely odd angle, causing him to keel over onto his side. He let out a loud yell of both surprise and pain as his knees throbbed with jarring pain, his .

He rolled over onto his other side, his three fingered hand clutching at his knee as the agony ripped through his entire leg.

And yet the pain seemed to fade away.

He'd spoken, or yelled. He'd made a sound.

And it had happened on instinct.

Forget all that bullshit about thinking you're talking, projecting your mind, all it had taken was for him to simply forget he he didn't have his normal face, and the sound had came out. He just had to pretend he didn't have a mouth. It was so simple.

But the pain was coming back.

He groaned in pain as it throbbed rapidly, feeling as though his heart had temporarily transferred its anatomical position into his leg. He shifted onto his left leg, propping himself up in a kneeling position, but he accidentally transferred weight onto his right leg during the hasty movement and keeled over again as pain pulsed through his leg and up into his torso, piercing his mind and shutting out all thoughts of anything else.

He metaphorically grit his teeth, before forcing his body to prop itself up on his left leg, his right leg still throbbing like a drum as he held himself up by a clever combination of arms and one leg.

He gave one more deep wince, before forcing his eyes off his not-visibly-damaged leg and up towards the ship.

Only to find himself almost blinded by light shining in his eyes.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but what he saw made his heart feel a little weak.

That was a _lot_ of guns.

* * *

"All right, ramp is down! Stay sharp, scans indicate it dropped from the ship just before we lowered the ramp, so it's down there somewhere. Wrex, Ashley, Liara with me. Kaidan take everyone else and form up. If we don't find it I won't be losing any sleep, just remember than when wandering off." Shepard barked the orders around, it was more important that they survive than to find a plant.

He held up three fingers in the universally recognised signal, before dropping them, one by one.

It was extremely anticlimactic.

They advanced down the ramp, taking it very cautiously. Shepard and his squad dropped off the left of the ramp, the crunch of the silicon dioxide surface probably alerting anything within a mile radius to their presence. It kind of ruined the element of surprise they wanted, anything with ears would have heard that and would be looking for their presence.

They turned quickly, rapidly clearing their area of any immediate threats, flash-lights swinging around the perimeter of their position. The others dropped to the other side after they'd given the all clear by Shepard. The quiet grunt of Kaidan as he landed oddly was still audible, despite the crunching of the silica as everyone else dropped. He looked back up the ramp, meeting Wrex's bored eyes.

His eyes seemed to know why he'd been left behind, yet the acceptance that he wasn't going to be obliterating things with his shotgun was also present. Which was good, if Wrex could hold his itchy trigger finger then so could everyone else.

Shepard brought his rifle to bear on his shoulder, swinging his barrel smoothly so that it followed his vision, making him ready to fire accurately within a moments notice. What he saw really, really confused him.

He'd seen a lot of things during his career, but the sight of a bipedal alien clutching its leg was something that he had _never_ seen before.

Not ever, he hadn't even seen _known_ aliens do that, at least that he recalled.

He looked over to his left, ready to signal the other group, but must have already seen it. They stood, rifles at the ready, spotlights covering the alien's general area. He did, however, consider himself lucky no shots had been fired, especially since Wrex was with them, which was a double-take in itself since he'd asked Wrex to watch the ramp instead of joining up with one of the squads.

He really hadn't expected to meet something that could walk, and if it's grunts were of pain, than it was at least somewhat sentient. They had to assume it could at least act on instinct. He needed everyone sharp and calm. No rash movements, nothing that could aggravate the creature that was currently propped up on one knee.

He supposed it was unneeded, yet he felt as if reminding everyone was at least good measure. He kept his rifle aimed with one hand, while broadcasting his message to everyone on the ground .

"Keep calm and collected. The last thing we want to do is make a sudden movement."

He activated his microphone, allowing his voice to broadcast clearly out of his helmet. He deliberated on his statement. There was no way, even if it was sentient, that it would be able to understand English, so he guess that what he said didn't really need to be anything special.

He pondered for a moment longer, before finally reaching his conclusion.

* * *

"Who are you and why did you think you could steal a ride on _my_ ship!" The figure, who he assumed was Shepard, spoke out. He was speaking English, he knew. But something was wrong, he knew it was English, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. It was like the words refused to make sense, refused to connect to create meaning. That's not to say he couldn't understand what they were saying, he still managed to get a good grasp of what Shepard was talking about by deliberating over his world choice.

The pain in his leg seemed to have subsided for now, so he tested its strength. Finding it to be able to support him now somewhat, he metaphorically grit his teeth before lifting himself to his feet, nonetheless favouring his slightly injured leg.

'If he couldn't understand them completely', his mind racing at a million miles a minute, 'then he needed to let them know, somehow.'

He knew what he had to do. He barely even had to think about it, at this point, the statement was embedded within his mind on a subconscious level, his retort was _almost_ automatic, but he prolonged spurting it out so that he could prolong the feeling of giddiness.

His heart grew weak, the chance to pull a fast, inside joke with himself overcame him. This was his chance, he could pull Javik level of crap and get away with it, and there was nothing they could do. Well, except for shoot him.

He stared right into Shepard's visor, and struggled out in deliberately broken English.

"No speak good English."

His unnatural, shadowy voice vibrated through the air, and despite his good intentions the multi-toned voice seemed to at least unsettle those before him.

Shepard continued staring at him. Maybe he hadn't heard him? He had spoken, there was no way he hadn't heard him. So maybe he didn't understand? Perhaps he wasn't speaking English?

Had he blundered at one of the simplest tasks in existence? He shouldn't have assumed they would speak English, or at least his version of English. What if they spoke a different English? He would have to relearn to speak it, and he was always rubbish at learning languages, though that could have just been his innate laziness.

Nothing was happening, and it honestly was putting his nerves on edge.

Shepard turned his head to face someone in the right crowd, but he couldn't hear any noise.

 _'Unless...'_ They must be communicating with each other via radio, _they had to be._

He tensed, ready to make a dash for it just in the event they decided he wasn't the trouble. He could definitely see it happening, though he hoped they would at least hear him out, so to speak. Shepard nodded towards the figure on the left side, before they both focused their attention back on him.

He kept running through what he would do in his mind, he would turn and use all of his strength to fly himself in the opposite direction, zigging and zagging to avoid any possible shots.

Shepard's voice rang out again, this time more wary than previously, "What are you? We're not going to have to shoot you are we?"

While Shepard spoke they were fanning out, he didn't really notice until they'd all stopped - they'd formed a semicircle around him, obviously to minimize any collateral damage. Again, the words didn't seem to immediately click, it was if he knew what all the words meant, but grammar wasn't really providing any contextual information to him.

He winced as his leg gave a particularly painful throb, before summoning his courage and replying, "No shoot. I am hybrid." He knew he was butchering the sentences, but it just wasn't coming to him. Hopefully Shepard would know what he meant by the garbled sentences.

"You going to elaborate? I don't exactly know what a 'hybrid' is." Shepard's biting tone lit his nerves up again, he obviously disapproved that he hadn't explained himself further. This Shepard obviously didn't believe that playing nice would always get you what you wanted. He would play along, he was at the disadvantage here, and he had no wish to test himself while so weary.

"We are ancient race, much before Prothean. The creators betrayed us, I escape. Woke up imprisoned, escaped again on star ship." His pseudo English was just as impressive as ever, really lacking in the everything department. It was honestly atrocious, and he knew it. He needed to pull an asari and pull the language from someone's brain, but he honestly had no idea how, or if, he could.

Shepard seemed to acknowledge what he'd said, before turning to face Liara. This was could be very, very good. However it could also be very, very bad. If he remembered correctly, you could only take what the other allowed during a meld. If he slipped up for even a second, his disguise would be seen through and he would have a damn lot of explaining to do.

On the other hand, if he pulled it off successfully he would be able to share his 'history' and 'culture' with her, and maybe even pull the language from her during the meld. Which was good for the obvious reasons. He would still need to get a translator, however he had no idea how they worked, and there was a very real possibility that he would not be able to use one.

Shepard nodded once, before standing aside.

"Liara is going to join minds with you in a sharing of information. It will be strange, but it's not dangerous - it's not designed to hurt you." Again, with Shepard's voice. There was no reason to be so bitter, it's not like he was going to go on a rampage. He didn't have a death wish.

The tension in the air was palpable as she approached, he knew that one wrong move now would get him turned into a bloody pulp. He stood facing her as she walked towards him slowly, arms extended palms out, obviously trying to demonstrate her peacefulness towards him. She seemed to get slower as she approached, obviously being just as, if not more, cautious than he was.

She finally got within arm's reach, coming to a stop smoothly. She reached out with both hands, firmly gripping his wrists. He stared into her eyes, and she stared back.

She seemed to mentally prepare herself, before finally initiating the meld.

 _"Embrace eternity."_

* * *

It was like nothing he had ever felt before.

He couldn't describe it, it was just so _different_.

 _"Hello, my name is Liara."_

It wasn't like before, he could fully understand what she was saying, their minds were melded, nervous systems completely linked. He could tell what she was asking, without even taking meaning from the words, _he just knew_. He deliberated on her statement. She obviously wanted a name, but what to give her? He drew his name from Starcraft, Maar, the first hybrid. A new name, a new start.

 _"I am Maar."_ He replied, transmitting his thoughts directly into her mind.

 _"What are you? Where are you from?"_ Her question was mildly timid, sticking true with her original canon nature.

He didn't reply. Instead, he began gathering information, things from the Starcraft universe, modified information to more support the 'reaper' thing, except instead he gave Maar's fate a spin - he fled from Zeratul instead of being slain, and when Amon, who he hoped to pass off as a reaper to Shepard, was destroyed by Kerrigan and her brood, he left and travelled abroad.

It wasn't solid, but it would do.

In turn, he could feel her giving the language over, feeding him the asari language, except this time it _was_ a complete understanding, he could rationalise the language now, he felt as though he could just create sentences, string them together like an artist, rather than force them together word by word as he had been previously.

He felt her taking his information, feeding on it, he could feel her wonder at his 'history' being projected through the meld, she was obviously taking it as the full truth, which while dishonest, was better then the actual truth.

Heck, he still almost had an aneurysm thinking about how he'd ended up here.

He broadcast his feelings of isolation, of the unknown amount of time he'd spent in the caves, trying to convey how important it was for him to get out and get busy, just how painful it was sitting in the unknown, for however long it was.

She didn't say anything in return either, yet he did feel sorrowful emotions wafting from her 'corner', obviously sympathetic to the torture he suffered at the hands of isolation alone. He knew it was enough now - Liara could act as a potent enough translator for now, as he could speak her language, but not really speak any of the other languages.

He knew she'd reached the same conclusion. Enough information had been exchanged.

* * *

She stepped back from him, obviously weary, and turned on her heel. Her walk towards Shepard, despite her weariness, was determined, deliberate, and not at all lethargic. She twisted her head and upper torso unnaturally to glance back at him, before finally reaching Shepard. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but he hoped it was good. She wouldn't act like that in the meld just to tell Shepard he was a sick dog which needed to be put down.

 _'What was next?'_ His thoughts wandered, drifting from the current situation. If he was to end up with Shepard, how could he change things? How could he make things different, so that maybe things _didn't_ turn out so rotten, so that perhaps not as many people had to die this time around. Though considering all things, it wasn't _really_ the first time around, at least for him.

Liara turned to face him.

He tensed up, once again ready to flee on a moments notice. If things turned bad now, his journey would be over before it even began, and to be honest, death frankly scared him. He'd come so far, even though it seemed so little, to lose it all because of wrong assumptions. Hopefully she'd relay his combat ability to Shepard, as he tended to trust his squaddies

"You're coming with us. You'll need a translator though, so we will get you an omni-tool the next time we are on the Citadel, they probably sell ones in your size."

 _'Seriously?'_ Just like that, they were letting him on board.

From this moment on, he was part of Shepard's crew, following the first human spectre on his task to stop Saren.

The adrenaline, or whatever his equivalent was now, was beginning to wear off. Not only had the throbbing pain started setting in again, the fatigue had begun setting in. He wished for nothing other than to get some rest, which was ironic considering he didn't sleep to rest any more.

Though he could always knock himself out in front of a heat lamp or something, which was an odd thought considering he would rather that than an actual bed at the moment.

"Is he coming or not? We don't have all day, and we have to hurry if we want to make a detour to the Citadel." He glanced up at Shepard's words, he'd completely zoned out there, lost in thought, and missed the fact that almost everyone had already returned to the ship, obviously ready to get back to their mission.

"Yes, I'm coming." He replied after a moment of processing his words, fairly sure that the fatigue had even set into his voice, the misty, ethereal tone of his voice becoming extremely thick, the ominous qualities being highlighted by his lack of conscious control.

He followed Shepard onto the ramp, aware of Wrex's eyes on his back as he trudged up the cargo ramp, the ramp which he had been clinging onto only hours previously.

"Is there anywhere you would like to stay?" Shepard's question threw him off, and to be honest, he didn't really know either. Perhaps an old tanning booth would be a good start, get both the 'hibernation' and energy he needed.

Perhaps that wasn't require though. Maybe he only needed the more extreme methods of generating energy after he'd expended all his energy, perhaps just being exposed to light would be enough to sustain him; if he was not doing anything strenuous, that is.

"Hello? You in there?"

Once again, he'd zoned out.

He was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on more than one thing, and it was highly evident by the fact his brain was shutting out everything 'unnecessary' when he was thinking.

"I'll find somewhere later, for now I will rest." His words was mumbled, slurred, and it was not a small feat that Shepard had understood him. Well, understood the words, his actual sentence left Shepard extremely confused.

"But isn't that the same thing? I... Whatever. Go find somewhere to sleep." Shepard betrayed little of his confusion in his tone, but it didn't matter anyway. He spent a few seconds trying to get the gist of what Shepard had said before giving up and moving on.

He took a right, a left, another right, it didn't matter any way - he was lost.

He felt it before he saw it, his tired eyes disconnected from the world.

It blinded him as he approached it, the light sending pleasant pulses through his skin, completely different to the almost painful throbbing in his knee.

He stepped up to the barrier which separating him from the light, before plonking himself on the ground, leaning against said barrier.

It bathed him in the light, like a nice bed would have.

He closed his eyes, forcing his brain into unconsciousness.

 _'I think I'll stay here for a while.'_


	4. Chapter 4

**Maar receives energy via light - photosynthesis. He can travel space because zerg can basically, h** **is abilities will be psi based. I don't think i will include any precog abilities, protagonist may start floating once he has mastered his abilities though.**

 **Sorry for a several month gap, been busy with study. Most of this was written at like 2am, so let me know if I made any obvious mistakes.**

* * *

He felt the waking process begin, it wasn't quite like when he was human, he was... aware, he knew what was going on. He knew he was lying down, and he could feel things, but his limbs were extremely sluggish and lethargic, like they'd been laden with osmium.

He tried to lift his arm once, but it still refused to obey him. This phenomena happened in humans because of the chemicals the brain pumped around during deep sleep to stop flailing and movement.

At least, that was what he understood from his five minute internet session, so he was basically an expert.

The sound of someone quite literally gasping in surprise assaulted his ears, the sound being amplified by a large magnitude due to his extreme sensitivity and banging into his eardrums with all the force of a battering ram. He tensed, before metaphorically grunting as his eyes flicked open, only to be immediately blinded by the disgusting assault of the light.

His eyes slammed shut again, nevertheless he prepared himself for a task which, if he was awake, would be _extremely_ menial, a trivial task.

Muscles strained as his body prepared to defy the chemicals pumping through his veins, readying up in what seemed like a monumental task - which was throwing his arms into the air. He pushed with all his might, his one purpose in life rapidly become to move himself

"Steady there, I wouldn't want you hurting yourself. After all, it's not everyday I get some unknown species dumped in my medical bay." Chakwas' British accent, at least he thought it was British, assaulted his ears, aggravating the headache he didn't know he had. It didn't help that he was wasting time interpreting her words, the activity growing old extremely fast.

He glanced over at Chakwas, his head raised off the bed he was messily draped over. He then dropped his head again, as the throbbing headache began to feel more like a rubber mallet repeatedly smacking into his skull, unrelenting and unforgiving.

The door to the medbay opened, drawing the eyes of both people in the room. His heart took a lurch as the anticipation smacked him around, but it seemed to be for naught. It was no new face, just Shepard.

Shepard glanced from Chakwas to Maar, then back to Chakwas. He didn't say anything, but the expression on his face could have meant any number of things, but to say the least he did look just a little surprised.

"Commander? I only just sent out the alert that he was awake." Curiosity was prevalent in Chakwas' tone as she questioned Shepard, though there was a fair amount of amusement present as well, as if she knew the _real_ reason Shepard was doing his rounds in the medbay. See turned to face him, her chair rotating around it's axis as she spoke to him.

"Yeah, I guess I just have a sixth sense when it comes to my crew." The way he said it suggested more than a little serendipity was involved, his deliberate arrogance suggesting so, but he was humorously going along with it to cover whatever reason he'd actually come down here for.

Chakwas, despite knowing it was a joke, still stared him down, her mock-dark expression enough to properly chastise Shepard for _at least_ the next few hours. It was obvious she wanted to know why he was _really_ there, but Shepard was holding fast. Perhaps they would never know why he was _really_ there, but it's not like it was important.

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to go get Liara, I want to have a conversation with _him_ ," he made a point to clear his throat and stare at Maar pointedly before continuing, "without him staring at me like he's trying to solve the purpose of life."

"Didn't you fix that commander? By having him meld with Liara?" She did have a valid point, but Maar still couldn't understand Shepard properly so it couldn't have actually been fixed properly.

On the other hand he was speaking Thessian or whatever it was called just fine, so at least he had that going for him.

"I can understand him but he can't really understand me. That's why we need Liara, she can translate what I'm saying into her language until we get a more permanent fix." He said it as though she should have known, which wasn't _really_ reasonable, since it was easy to ignore the small things like that when you have seen the problem 'solved'.

Maar stared at the commander. He had a feeling that wasn't the true reason he'd come down, but he definitely thought it would be entertaining conversing with Shepard. And the look on the council's faces when he showed up, it was going to be priceless.

On the other hand, they were delaying Noveria and Theros, or whatever the place with those creepy green exploding things was called, just so that Shepard could bring him to the Citadel and showcase their newest freak in the circus.

He had a feeling it was going to be a double edged sword, as in the game the longer things were left the more messed up and depraved the outcomes tended to be, and if he was there then it almost cemented changes, changes that he _might_ be able to predict, but there was definitely room for it to deviate from expectations, and one of those deviations was happening now.

He had to handle this well, Shepard had to handle this well. This was the first step of many on their road to stopping Saren.

While he'd been submerged in his own thoughts the commander had moved off, not even drawing attention to himself as he'd moved into Liara's quarters. At least, he hadn't noticed. Chakwas was back to doing whatever it was she did when there wasn't any people in need of fixing.

He glanced over at the door to Liara's quarters, Shepard seemed to be taking a rather large amount of time for just 'fetching Liara'. He was probably sucking up to her, which made her blue head tentacles the reason for being down here much more likely than seeing the ancient being who was imprisoned within the prothean ruins on Therum.

It honestly didn't matter anyway. He knew from first-hand experience that 'doing the rounds' and conversing with all the crew members could definitely take a while, especially if all the dialogue was explored.

And seeing as this wasn't just a predetermined and static world, the conversations would vary from what he was used to, the dynamic of 'real' people making it more simple than dragging the cursor to the top or bottom and spamming spacebar.

It seemed like an age passed before the doors opened, a seemingly refreshed Liara stepping out from behind Shepard. Instead of the exhausted, defeated posture of yesterday she was standing stronger, with defining purpose.

They approached the bed he was sitting on with barely disguised caution. Despite Liara's vouch while planet side, he was still an unknown, and he didn't expect them to trust him - quite the contrary. Shepard was experienced, and was hardly likely to be all buddy-buddy from the get go.

Shepard's hand crept to his holstered rifle as he approached the bed. Not quite qualifying as being passive-aggressive, but definitely letting him know they would retaliate if any hostility was shown.

"What are you?"

Shepard's tone was as typical as always - questioning, commanding, stern, and not leaving any real room for screwing around. He seemed hardly confused, as if this kind of thing was a regular occurrence, even if though the situation was probably unique.

Liara began to translate, but he already knew this phrase, it was like remembering a pattern, a foreign phrase - he knew what it meant, but without understand the process which went into crafting it. He replied just as he had before, not quite sure why Shepard would ask this again.

"I'm a hybrid, a fusion of two species." He cut through her translation, Liara left trailing off as he spoke over her in his rush to answer. His voice was stronger now, the wispy quality of his voice had dissipated from when they'd spoken last, leaving it louder, stronger, and more defined.

Liara timidly glanced at him, obviously flustered at his interruption. He hadn't meant to set her on edge like that, and he had jumped the gun a bit in his reply, so to speak, but it wasn't something worth apologising right now over, perhaps later. He thought he might have offender her when she didn't translate to Shepard, which did confuse him a little bit. He was rude, but not an ass.

His confusion only lasted in the brief moments leading up to his remembrance that Shepard could understand him, just not vice versa.

"And what exactly is a hybrid? What kind of species are you a fusion of? I'm not exactly the most knowledgeable person in the galaxy but I know your species has never been seen before. From what I've seen of Liara's memories, you seem... formidable. I want to hear it from your mouth." Ignoring the fact he couldn't really understand what Shepard was saying, accusation seemed to subtly creep into his tone. Shepard was obviously frustrated at his answer, and wanted him to explain himself.

This was very bad, he already had a somewhat negative reputation with Shepard, or at least Shepard already found him a frustrating issue to deal with.

Especially if he was a biotic, and a renegade Shepard was one vindictive S.O.B. If he was a biotic he wouldn't even need to be obviously armed to smack him around, especially in his current state.

Liara seemed to think it over, her timidness still evident, before translating into her native language. "Shepard would like to know, well, what exactly you are. What exactly _is_ a hybrid, what is your history, those kind of things."

She glanced at Shepard, as if to seek approval of her translation. She'd obviously filtered the hostility from Shepard's original question, as there was hardly anything rude about her question - it seemed filled with a harmless curiosity.

This was an easy one. He'd basically been preparing this answer since he'd first realised what was going on.

"We were created by the Reapers as an instrument of destruction. I was the first. We were a means to destroy entire civilisations, a powerful force in their cycle of destruction. I was commanded with inhibiting the Dark Templar Zeratul's quest for knowledge. He was one of the beings attempting to save galaxy from the Reapers." He added the last sentence as an afterthought - something to provide context to what he'd said.

"He defeated me and I fled into hiding, recuperating from my wounds. The one who created us, Amon, was destroyed towards the end of the fighting. With the option of free will, I fled from the planet I was taking refuge on. It was admittedly mostly due to self-preservation, as the Reapers would undoubtedly turn their attention to their latest servants, and I liked free will." He paused before continuing, compiling some more improvisation into the forefront of his mind, ready for regurgitation.

"Suddenly I was alone. While enslaved under Amon, I had no free will - none of us did. Yet, I was not alone while under his control. I could communicate with my kind, feel their presence, it was comforting."He gave another pause, this time to allow them to process his tale. He continued after a milking the pause for all it was worth.

"I do not remember when, or at least, I do not remember the time frame, however I was almost struck by a blinding flash, the force from it smashing me out of orbit and into the ground of a planet. The force it contained was incredible - it was no where near me. I believe if it had struck me head on I would have been vaporised. The next coherent thoughts I experienced were while chained up in that facility."

He knew it was brief, it was flimsy - at least to him, though he really did thing it was quite artistic to include that massive mass accelerator round that gouged a scar into the side of the planet which's name he couldn't remember.

Liara seemed to be almost glowing with excitement, obviously wanting to grill him on what life was like pre-Prothean.

 _Perhaps he would humour her some day._

Shepard seemed to take it in, obviously realising it was a boiled-down, over-simplified version of his actual 'history'. They seemed to have bought it - it was obviously 'out there' enough, but it was surprising since they didn't know about the collectors yet, they didn't know that the reapers tended to mess with current races to achieve their goals.

"I know you're useful in a fight. I need to show you to the council first - regardless of their scepticism of the Reaper theory they will surely find you interesting. I've told them we discovered something big, but not quite what. It's just not something you present without being their in person." It took Liara longer to translate this one, her sentences coming out a bit slower - obviously focusing on steadily creating them than speaking in quick spurts.

He stepped right up to him, almost within touching distance.

Maar was wary - he wasn't quite sure where this was going, but he went along with it. He stared back, his eyes glowing maliciously, despite his relatively-honest intentions. Shepard stared back, before presenting his hand for shaking.

"I want you to join my team. You seem formidable, and it will be handy having someone like you around."

 _Success_.

He kind of got the gist of what Shepard was saying from the definitions of what he was saying, but he wasn't sure. Liara's translation that followed only confirmed his initial belief. He was going on an adventure.

He couldn't describe what he was feeling, but victory, the triumphant feeling of being successfully recruited seemed to fill his misplaced and empty soul. He was on the right track, and he was going to make it count. The Reapers wouldn't see it coming, he would be an anomaly, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

He raised his hand, his three fingered hand clasping around Shepard's. He didn't say anything, but his acceptance was obvious to anyone watching.

He was a part of Shepard's crew now, and he was going to save the galaxy.

Or at least, help Shepard in saving the galaxy.

Shepard dropped his arm, before taking a fair step back. Maar dropped himself back onto the bed, rolling his head to look at Liara. She was kind of just standing there awkwardly, probably feeling like the odd one out. He shut his eyes, blocking out the light. He could feel a migraine coming on, and to be honest, he wouldn't mind sleeping this one out.

He let his systems shut down, his body achieving a state of complete hibernation, with energy usage approaching so close to zero that it may as well have been nil. He took one last look at Shepard, the light stabbing into his eyes, before letting himself fall into unconsciousness.

* * *

"What do you think Liara?" Shepard glanced back over to Liara, who had taken a seat on one of the beds, probably still weary despite her chippy demeanour.

"Oh! He's absolutely fascinating, he must have so much experience; so much knowledge - right there, available for the picking. Evidence of life before the Protheans is low, extremely low, but this almost confirms my theory! A civilisation rises to the top, before being crushed, with traces of their civilisation being systematically eliminated from the world. He's been through it, twice, perhaps more! If only he could share more insight, just tell us more about what life was like in ancient history." Possible tiredness aside, she was bursting with energy. Everyone had their hobbies, things that made them get up in the morning even when they were exhausted, and Liara had obviously decided on hers - she was going to pick apart Maar's brain.

"Quieten down Liara - he's sleeping." Shepard's half-hearted reprimand still did the job well enough, with Liara's sheepish expression evidence of her slight embarrassment. Of course he couldn't be woken, not by talking, but it's not as if they were an expert on his species.

Even when he was a human he could sleep through almost anything, but with the ability to essentially shut down all non-critical functions he could probably sleep through the apocalypse; of course that's not taking into the account the fact that he'd basically already done that.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, the situation really taxing his mind. The whole thing was just a mess - and it wasn't processing easy. He felt the lead under his eyes, and knew it was time to take a rest. He'd barely slept in the last few days, and even he needed sleep.

He turned to Liara, who seemed to just be waiting around for some reason. He struggled to find what he'd been meaning to say; but it just wasn't there. He figured that if he couldn't remember than it probably wasn't all that important, so he let it slide.

Instead he just stammered out exhaustedly, "And you're sure he's not a threat?"

He cringed inwardly at his own voice, he sounded so tired, so weak, like a gentle breeze could knock him over, but little did he know his tone barely betrayed any of his current emotions.

"No, well... I mean, I think? I'm not sure, he seems to have, uh, honest intentions. He want's to get back at these 'reapers' of yours, I think." At least he wasn't the only one who sounded pathetic. Liara seemed to be second guessing herself and struggling to articulate what she was thinking as well.

He rubbed his temples, trying to rub the clarity back into his mind. He gave her a dismissive shake of his hand - at least, what he hoped was a dismissive shake. The gesture wasn't all that well performed, so it really was kind of open to interpretation.

He slowly marched over to the doors, but turned to Chakwas before he stepped out.

"I want you watching him. If he starts waking let me know. Also, can you get Ashley and Kaidan on standby? If he gets violent I would like a quick response." This time his voice betrayed little of his exhaustion. It's not like it was a hard thinking process, after all.

Alien wakes up. Alien attacks people. Nobody ready. Everyone dies.

Hopefully the pair would be able to put up _some_ resistance, but he really didn't have anything to gauge it's fighting ability against. According to Liara he had obliterated the geth, but honestly, anyone with a weapon bigger than a toothpick could beat a few isolated geth. At least the ordinary ones. A geth prime was a challenge for well armed people, a rocket geth was an absolute pain in the ass to deal with.

He walked up to the elevator, ready to return to his meagre quarters.

The alliance really did skimp out on their comfort, but at this moment he could sleep comfortably on a bed of needles. He raised his head, speaking to one person in particular, "Joker, I know you're listening. Hurry up and get us to the citadel, but make sure I get a nice nap before we land."

"Do you even know how far we are from the Citadel? Actually you know what, that's fine commander. I'll wake you up once you've had a nice and long nap - regardless of the fact... You know, never mind. Goodnight commander." Joker gave up mid sentence. Shepard was obviously tired, and anything more than a few hours sleep would probably qualify as enough.

Shepard always seemed to get a bit slow when he was tired.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry if this is rushed, I am going back to home for 1 week and not bringing computers. Also I don't want to be that person but reviews are appreciated, since I would like to get better**

 **The laptop I borrowed to finish this has a broken keyboard, so if you notice anything missing a letter or two it would be nice**

 **Sceonn: not quite sure what you mean :) specify if you want**

 **Also 'bargain-bin Xel-naga', I grinned**

* * *

"Hello? Hello? Are you awake in there?"

Someone was trying to wake him, but he really just wanted to sleep. It'd been several long days, and now was his first real chance to enjoy sleep. It was like eating food after starving for weeks, drinking after being in the desert. He needed this.

He really wanted to just sleep for a bit longer.

He kept his eyes shut, trying to block the noise that all these rude idiots were making. It was obvious he didn't want to get up now, so why couldn't they just come back later. It made perfect sense - everyone was happy. The sleepy haze was so comforting, he never wanted to leave.

Yet as they kept making more noise his brain kept waking up conscious processes, and everything was slowly becoming clearer and clearer.

His eyes flicked open and he sat up like it was his life's goal.

"Yeah, sorry." It was like his non-existent throat was dry from sleeping, as even though he was fully awake and chippy his voice came out like he hadn't drunk for days, which while technically true, wasn't quite the point.

He'd always been a fairly deep sleeper, but it had never _really_ been a problem. It just meant he either had to go all-night or go to bed early, neither of which really bothered him in the grand scheme of things.

To put it into perspective he usually had to start getting up a good half an hour _before_ a normal person should have, which had made him late for several events which he really shouldn't have been.

He didn't need that half an hour now, the adrenaline pumping through his veins had turned him into the most alert being on the station.

Yet despite his self-proclaimed alertness, he really, really didn't look it. He was slouched with his hands propping up his slumped frame up on the bed, with his eyes slowly flicking between half open and closed, tentacles lazily bobbing up and down behind him.

"Yeah, well, let us know we need to start waking you up several hours before we land next time. You know, that way we can keep appointments."Shepard's biting tone really cut deep, it was obvious he'd become frustrated with the delay, and Maar knew from experience that being late when it wasn't really _your_ fault was among the worst feelings in the world.

"Shepard is letting you know that we, er, were - I mean are, late for our meeting with the council." Liara seemed to have momentarily forgotten her place as Shepard's official translator for a moment, which to be honest wasn't really needed since he'd got the memo - Shepard was pissed.

He didn't bother responding, instead he let himself fall forwards, placing his feet firmly underneath his body as he landed. He reached up and gave the sides of his scalp a good rub, trying to bring the life back into him.

Liara exchanged a glance with Shepard, confirming something. Just what, he didn't know, but his answer seemed to come in the form of a seemingly rehearsed speech from Liara, her voice more akin to a recital, "We want to show you to the council, regardless of whether they believe our Reaper story they will be hard pressed to deny that you exist, so we should be able to at least get them to listen."

This was bad.

Really bad.

If the council started preparing for the Reapers now, there would be no way in hell the next few years would be similar. It was selfish in a way, but in all honesty there was no point in creating needless deviations when there was already a 'tried and tested' method for Reaper killing.

A sinking feeling settled in his chest - if only he hadn't got creative when crafting his story, if only he'd kept the Reapers out of it, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. He thought back, desperately hoping that he hadn't specified what had happened in the end. If he mucked this up then there was no telling what would happen, he wouldn't be able to accurately predict what was going to happen.

Hopefully the council would be as ignorant as they seemed in the games, but it wasn't a guarantee. There could be serious trouble here, and his own idiotic self had caused it.

It was time for damage control, perhaps he could give some speech about how he hadn't seen the supposed 'Reapers' since he left, and it was possible they were destroyed. If he went with this, his whole story would be a house of cards - one statement from Sovereign or Harbinger and Shepard would be asking the hard questions.

He needed a way to fix this, to craft a lie that would satisfy all the conditions without sabotaging himself, without forcing himself to explain where he'd actually come from.

It was overwhelming.

If he didn't play this right, then there was _so_ many ways this could go wrong - so many ways that would leave his credibility in jeopardy, and his body permanently attached to table in a laboratory as someone's dirty secret.

He zoned back in, there was no point in planning now. He would play his cards as he needed. He looked back at Shepard, who seemed to be staring at him expectantly.

Shepard had probably said something important, he knew that, but unless Liara decided to translate (if she hadn't already) then what he said would remain a mystery.

The commander seemed to want to say something, but Maar would never find out just what it was. Shepard instead simply gave a final, tired, statement, summing up everyone's collective thoughts.

"All right, let's go. We've wasted enough time."

 _No need to be such a hard-ass, I really am sorry._

* * *

The games really hadn't managed to translate just how big the citadel actually was.

The Citadel place was massive, there was really no other way to describe it.

It's arms hung out, like giant oblong-shaped moons, enveloping the space between them. It was architecture of epic proportions, and quite honestly it was a thing of beauty. Which was a tad odd, considering the architects had been gigantic space robots hell-bent on ending all organic life every fifty-thousand years.

"It's quite impressive isn't it?" Liara seemed to have taken an interest in his staring, which wasn't all that subtle.

He'd been walking fairly slowly for a reasonable amount of time, his leg's on autopilot as he plodded after Shepard. Liara seemed to have hung back, whether to shield her latest 'find' or just to pick his brain apart it was a nice gesture that he did appreciate.

Of course, he decided to answer as ambiguously and obnoxiously as possible.

 _Ancient space alien and all that, after all._

"I've... seen bigger." He thought he managed to convey the right amount of mysteriousness into his tone, but he probably just ended up sounding ridiculous. He was never really good at deliberate intonations, and it was likely he just sounded like an ass.

Regardless of his possible obnoxiousness, it was still technically true. A lot of things he'd read about were longer, and _maybe_ more powerful. It was kind of hard to compare those kind of these, especially when everything worked in different ways in different universes.

Liara seemed fairly taken aback by his response nonetheless, obviously trying to sort through the memories he'd shared for such a thing. He decided it was probably best not to let her wear out her brain before an important meeting, and offered his explanation, intentionally trying for a more helpful tone.

Damn, everything was just so _unnatural_ now.

"It was slightly longer than the citadel - it was a ship. Capable of burning worlds on its own." Her expression seemed one of horror, a ship of such power being a daunting thought to anyone, well, except him.

It was just 'fiction' to him - he knew it wasn't real. Yet, when he told Liara, it was 'real' in the sense that she believed such a thing had existed, which he did feel slightly bad about, as his comment was just him trying to increase his Ancient space alien status.

"Was it ever... Used?" Her question made him wince; there was no easy way out of this. He drew upon his vast, all-knowing and all-wise intellect and decided to just make it up as he went along.

"I... did not see it used personally, though I believe it was used on several worlds. It was not as destructive as I made it sound; there were ships far smaller and far more destructive than it. They were used against us - the Reapers." He tried to both answer her question 'honestly' while preventing further questions, if he implied that they were used by the good guys (sometimes true) then she might relax a little.

Crisis averted.

He deserved an Oscar for this, really. His performance made DiCaprio look like an amateur, but it was hardly fair when you were judging yourself in a competition where you are the only one who exists anymore.

"It must have been fascinating, existing in a time where such feats were possible; our engineers don't even bother trying to make anything longer than three kilometres work - our required power increases at an exponential rate, so nothing larger is worth the resources. Well, that was what I understood, I'm not an engineer for a reason."

She obviously didn't know that Googling something quite literally made you an expert, but he could always enlighten her later.

She continued on after a fairly long pause, this time all business, "We're about to go through the checkpoint. People will probably... well, stare at you. No one has ever encountered your species before."

He didn't bother replying, he knew that would happen. He'd always been uncomfortable being the centre of attention, but damn, he would stand tall.

"The reason we haven't seen anyone yet is because the council gave us special permissions for docking. As a spectre Shepard would generally be able to dock wherever anyway, but because he set this all up with them beforehand they essentially ordered us to bring in 'the object' with utmost secrecy. We can show you around later, and get you that translator."

There was Liara, trying to be helpful again. Really, when her drive to assist was this big it was a character flaw. He actually looked forward to the more cold Liara, but that would be a while in the making.

He simply nodded in acknowledgement, before taking in just how far they'd lagged behind. Shepard and Garrus were standing at the entrance, their patience seemingly wearing thin over the fact he'd kept them waiting twice now.

He looked out towards them, the silver metal of the Citadel contrasting their shiny armour glinting quite nicely. He wanted, needed to impress them, do something to show-off and demonstrate his 'cool alien' factor - to reassure them that maybe this meeting will go better than expected.

Blasting a hole in the railing (if he even could) was out of the question, and to be honest it was a really _dumb_ idea. So he considered his other options. He thought back to his escape of the lava-planet-which's-name-escaped-him, and remembered his quasi-flying that he'd managed to pull off.

If he could do that it would be nice.

Put on a show and all that jazz.

He tested himself, propelling himself upwards slightly, but mostly horizontally towards Shepard a fairly speedy rate, his massive energy output taking a slight toll on him - like going for a steady jog - not quite as tiring as a sprint, but still unsustainable for long periods of time.

Regardless he felt like it wouldn't matter how long he could keep it up - if it ever looked like it was going to cause problems he could always just go back to walking, it wasn't a big deal.

He did wonder how it was possible, if that made any sense. In the original series Samara had kind of floated using her biotics, yet he had none so it must be psionic energy. Now, if he _really_ was a hybrid (which at this point, he was fairly sure of), then he should be able to float for _extremely_ long periods of time, considering that they were fairly strong, but he wasn't quite sure what toll it would have on him in the long term, and to be honest he really hadn't the foggiest of ideas on how psionic energy was synthesized.

He gave up before thinking to far into it, he didn't want to melt his brain before he'd even had a chance to banter with Javik and mess with Vega.

Despite (what he thought) was a very impressive and awe-inspiring entrance, Shepard did not seem amused at all.

This wasn't a real problem anyway, as Shepard bit his tongue without saying anything and turned sharply on his heel, activating the lock on the door stepping through. Before Maar followed up, he mentally took a second to compile his story into something which wouldn't get Shepard angry and wouldn't colossally screw with the events which were still to come.

He gave himself another fairly optimistic mental preparation, his mental pep-talk doing little to actually inspire him with any kind of confidence at all.

"Hurry, we cannot be late for this meeting again."

The angel in his ear was just letting him know that she existed, cutting through his thought processes and generally annoying him.

He really hadn't been that long.

Although he also ignored the devil in his opposite ear, and instead decided to go for the middle route.

Mediation was key.

Maar centred himself, glancing at Liara's worried expression (she really did worry to much), before giving a little jump and holding himself in the air with his barely practised psionics. Nobody could get mad if he was floating

It really wasn't efficient, but that didn't matter when he was going for awe-inspiring power and wisdom over practicality. He needed to show-off to the council just enough for them to take him seriously, but not enough to look like a threat.

He followed Shepard through the door, bobbing up and down unstably due to his inexperience with his psionics and the slowness of their pace, however he didn't need to go far to catch up to Shepard.

Who Maar could tell wasn't amused, even if Shepard looked more like a child at a theme park, like a kid getting ready to show off their toy. Which was just plain insulting to himself - not that Shepard wanted to show him off, but that he had made the comparison internally. Self-depreciation only lead to depression, and he really didn't want to be depressed.

Maar really didn't have a proper excuse for being late this time, but before he even had the chance to explain his delay Liara decided that it was her mission to cover for him.

"I was just... explaining, err, how the council tends to be fairly, uh, bureaucratic. " She was an absolutely shocking liar, and Shepard had probably seen right through it (if his pointed stare at Maar meant anything), but nonetheless they once again began to move, obviously not caring enough to delay the meeting any further.

They didn't speak as they traversed through the endless mess of steep corridors, everyone seemed to be absorbed in thought, contemplating what may happen, the possible pathways that this meeting may take.

Well, except for Maar. He'd already been down that path and concluded that it was not in is best interests to become lost in what might be. Instead he was simply taking in the scenery - or lack thereof.

Despite the corridors cold, clean, and heartless aesthetic it was still... comforting, in a way. It was strange, it shouldn't have been provoking such things, and yet it made his heartbeat slow down, as if on some subconscious level Maar had realised that this was a major event and he needed to keep a cool head; that the first arc of his story was essentially over and now he was moving into the problem solving phase.

It seemed like an age before they reached the end of the tunnel, the quasi-catacombs that they wandered through seemed to go on forever. There were turns everywhere, the tunnels splitting and branching in every conceivable direction - left, right, heck, there were even some that were so close to being vertical they would have required a jetpack to fly up.

The veritable maze didn't seem to phase Shepard in the slightest, however. His confident speed-walk taking hairpin turns, some of which seemed to take them backwards.

Honestly, Maar's sense of direction was shot, he had no idea where they were facing anymore, and it really did incite a feeling of helplessness that only being lost could cause.

Even though he was a little shaken by the possibility that they were lost, he still followed Shepard diligently. Chances were he knew the way off the top of his head, or that there was a map of he place that only Shepard could see.

Several right turns in a row later and... a door.

Shepard held up his open hand in the universally recognised symbol for 'stop' before anyone even got anywhere near the door.

"All right everyone, hold up. These tunnels are about to end, so everyone get your game face on. " The inner tour guide in Shepard was really coming out, and it was _kind of_ amusing, but not really. Shepard cleared his throat, and then continued, "Rapid transit is just on our right, so we will be exposed for a bit. Maar, don't be surprised if someone takes your photograph or runs in fear, we're not here to validate people, we're here to see the council."

Maar grimaced internally, he would really have to get used to those kinds of reactions.

It was actually kind of funny, see, because he looked like an absolute menace, yet was really pretty soft and it would _definitely_ be a challenge to keep himself together on the battlefield.

On the opposite side of the spectrum everyone revered Javik for his Prothean-ness, yet the guy was an absolute ass, and didn't even hide the fact.

It wasn't the hugest of deals in any case, he would just have to prove them wrong, prove that he was the opposite of a threat.

Shepard waved his hand at the door, before hammering in a code on his omni-tool. A peculiar way of opening the door, Maar thought, bu nobody else really seemed to be surprised by it. They'd probably grown up around it.

The door gave a nice and healthy groan before opening.

* * *

"You know, if you think about it it's no _real_ surprise that nobody really seemed to care that you were some towering alien Maar. You really do get used to seeing the weirdest things in the galaxy while you're here, and if I was still working C-Sec I probably would have looked twice, accepted it was interesting but way above my pay grade and moved on."

Garrus really did make a good point to be honest, yet it was still odd that the only person/thing that seemed anything more than mildly interested was a Hanar, and it was probably just trying to figure out if he was a Prothean or not.

To say the rapid transit car was cramped was an understatement.

The air cars were probably only designed with a maximum of four 'humanoid' sized people in mind anyway, and so there was little room for any maneuvering, especially on Maar's part.

He was hunched over, the roof uncomfortably to close to his body for him to be able to relax. The seat belt was hanging off the chair uselessly, Maar instead opting to balance himself against the opposite wall of the airbus. Liara was on his left, and Garrus was directly opposite to him.

Whoever had designed these things was obviously unconcerned with comfort, as it rattled around like a bucket with some thrusters tacked on. Even with themselves being strapped in, the other three were thrown around a fair bit.

Now Maar, he was a veritable missile. He was like debris flying around inside of a windstorm, rocketing around and smashing into everything. He'd headbutted Garrus once before deciding it hurt to much to repeat, and had planted himself in the middle of the cramped room, gripping onto anything and everything with not only is hands, but is glowing tentacles as well.

If they could hold him against a starship they could hold him steady in a measly air car.

Of course, in the usual fashion, his tentacles proved to be ineffective at holding him steady, with his body being flung around like a rag doll within the vehicle. Between having his head crushed against the wall and having it smashed against the roof he had enough mental processing power left to curse his luck, as it simply made no sense whatsoever that he would be able to hold onto a starliner during atmospheric entry, but not inside an over glorified remote control car.

Thankfully their destination was not that far from where they had boarded the automated taxi, and so his brain cells were only damaged for a few more minutes before the car rapidly decelerated and planted itself on the ground.

The door opened, with the taxi's V.I. almost taunting them when it touted, "I hope you had a pleasant journey!" in it's sickeningly helpful tone.

Garrus looked dazed, as he seemed to have taken the brunt of the assault, while Liara and Shepard were pushed into their respective corners like their life depended on it, and by judging off of Garrus's vacant expression, it had.

Shepard was the first to leave the airbus, with the other two following quickly behind, with Liara clearly being much more coordinated than Garrus.

Maar was the last to leave, and in true fashion he smacked his head on the roof as he got out. One final taunt by the disgusting automated vehicle before he was to far away to be terrorised.

He climbed out, turning around to get a good glare in, but he cut it short due to their apparent time constraints.

 _No time for dilly-dallying._

He propelled himself into the air, following after them as they powered towards the council chambers, a single unit, moving at the brisk pace only those who are late could achieve.

Unlike their initial public entrance, much more people seemed interested in him now. It seemed that now he was heading towards the council chambers, everyone had permission to look.

Garrus would probably say that it was because he probably _was_ within their pay grade, so they didn't have to bother with any subtlety. It was a little off-putting, but by reminding himself that it wasn't negative attention - or even positive attention, for that matter, it was bearable.

He was a new thing, something nobody had seen before, and so he guessed it was natural for the diplomats of the galaxy to be interested in him. Add in that he was floating - if he was just a regular 'known specie' biotic, and he started floating like he was now, then he was sure to gather attention, seeing as it didn't seem too common. The only person he remember doing it was Samara, and Maar didn't know if that counted.

He didn't bother himself with taking in his surroundings all _that_ much - not when he had 'been' here before. His memory seemed to fill in the gaps, it took in the brief glances he took and supplemented it with the pictures his memories supplied.

It seemed much smaller in the game; the 'pre-chambers', or whatever it could be called, but he supposed it was easy to see it that way when Shepard was 'larger than life', he was a living legend and so everything would seem smaller through his eyes.

Maar took one last look at the entrance to the council chambers, his brief glance before he passed through remaining burned in his retinas long after he passed through. They didn't just signify an important event; they meant... something more. They were a symbol - the prologue as now over, and they represented the start of a new chapter in his life.

The beginning of the end.


	6. Chapter 6

**This message was originally how it was worth studying for my mid semester. Now it is about how I need to start studying for my next mid-semester exams. Sorry for the delay. Let me know if there are any mistakes.**

 **edit1: as per review, shortened section where I was mocking stereotypes**

* * *

They passed through the brief entrance to the council chambers, stepping out onto the bridge. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness streaming in through the windows, a stark contrast to the still-visible but much duller antechambers.

He bent backwards, trying to crack his back. It was harder than he initially expected, as bending backwards while floating required more than a little bit of concentration to avoid performing any floating acrobatics. It was an old habit of his, back before all this, so even though his back no longer cracked when he did it, stretching his diaphragm and pushing back his shoulders was comforting.

The council weren't there, so they were either early or late, and judging by Shepard's annoyed glare they were late. But honestly, he doubted that the council would be disappointed after meeting him; regardless of how late they were.

"Where are they?" And there was Liara, oblivious to the resigned stare that Shepard was fixing Maar with. It was hardly her fault, after all, she only really lost her 'innocence' after retrieving Shepard's body. Then she became a ruthless information broker, fixating herself on hunting down the Shadow broker.

"We're late, again."He didn't seem that angry, which was good. Shepard seemed to have accepted (for now) that being late, while still something to be avoided on principle, was inevitable today. His three word answer seemed to satisfy Liara, which was odd in itself since she _always_ seemed to have something today. Perhaps she was more nervous than she looked.

He glanced over at Garrus, and was not surprised at all to see him standing ramrod straight, completely motionless. He didn't spend too much time thinking about it, deeming it unimportant. It was probably an old habit of Garrus' anyway.

He relaxed himself, deliberately slowing down his thinking so that he could progress logically and steadily. The council hadn't made themselves present yet, so he may as well spend time straightening out his story - the weakest lies were the ones that contradicted themselves after all.

He didn't even have to think of anything _too_ special, if Shepard stuck true to his 'past' decisions (see: Javik) and didn't dig _too_ deep, then it would be fine.

But the council, they couldn't be stupid. You didn't get to represent your _entire_ species on a galactic scale by being a fool. They were sharp, and he knew they would notice inconsistencies in his story, which was why all the major details should add up. Small errors in minor things is to be expected.

When thinking hard, he was prone to missing things happening in the real world. It had been one of his defining traits previously, and now was no different. He missed the air shifting, the faint footsteps he would have normally picked up, the lethargic entrance of the Councillors.

"Shepard this better be... Ah." The Asari councillor trailed off awkwardly, but still startling Maar out of his reverie. He snapped his eyes up, his gaze burning with intensity as he locked eyes with her. She held his gaze for a few more moments, before turning back to Shepard, surprisingly collected after walking in on an alien.

"Shepard, _that_ is not a prothean relic." She was surprisingly collected, or unsurprisingly, really. She was probably like a thousand years old or something, and in her lifetime she had probably seen some _weird_ stuff, and he doubted that he really ranked anywhere even near the top.

"He's a hybrid." Maar recognised those words. His words. When speaking, Shepard sounded so sure of himself, it was like he expected the council to know what he was talking about. Just like Maar had when originally talking with Shepard. It was so arrogant, such a simple statement, yet effective at what it was designed to do.

Annoy the council.

"Shepard, quit screwing around. What is 'he'?" That was the Salarian councilor, and judging by his aggravated tone it seemed that Shepard had succeeded in taking out his bad mood on someone else. It was possible he was just being an ass because it was the council, and true to the games Shepard may just like pushing their buttons because they exist.

Regardless, Maar had absolutely no clue what the Salarian hadn't said.

Liara obviously hadn't learnt Salarian. There was really no need with the advanced translators of the age.

All of a sudden he was aware of all the eyes on him. He pulled his eyes to meet with Shepard's, who was looking at him expectantly.

He looked around, meeting everyone's eyes. They were all staring at him, creating a long pause as nothing was said. He looked sideways to Liara, before the realization dawned on him. Shepard wanted _him_ to speak for himself.

Which was only impeded by the fact he had no idea what the Salarian had said.

He sucked up his pride, and prepared to ask Liara where the conversation was up to, but his hasty mental preparation was quickly found to be for naught when a bone was thrown from a somewhat predictable direction.

"They want to know who you are; what you are." There was Liara, ever eager to help. Not that it was a bad thing, as she'd saved him the embarrassment of asking for himself. He'd already come to the decision that a rehash of what he'd already said was best, perhaps with some more 'detail' in certain areas. It was really going to test his improvisation skills, and hopefully he wouldn't screw up. Though standing here, he was confident that he could talk his way out of most situations.

They were hardly going to lynch a brand new alien for lying, after all.

He let himself drop to the floor, his bar feet making contact with the cold metal of the ground. He needed all his concentration for what was to come, and it took a fair amount of it just to keep floating. And so he began talking.

He rehashed his old story to council, a simply retelling of the story he'd initially told Shepard - how the 'Reapers' had created his race for the sole purpose of aiding in their mission to purge the galaxy of intelligent life, of how he was the first - the most 'free-willed', the most adventurous, and how with Amon's destruction he had dodged the 'takeover' of the hybrids, of how it had left him in solitude, completely disconnected from his totally and completely real brethren.

And it was from here he spun new lies, filling in the gaps, expanding on what he'd already said. He mentioned how there were only three predominant races in his time: the Zerg, the Protoss, and the Humans, and how it was the 'Zerg Queen's' actions that had led to Amon's destruction, with the armada she'd amassed overwhelming him. He also told of Zeratul, a powerful Protoss who had realised the Reapers were simply too powerful to defeat conventionally, and how he had travelled through the galaxy seeking knowledge that would assist them in their war.

He did not skip over the actual Maar's meeting with Zeratul, mentioning how they had met in combat, with Zeratul ultimately defeating him. It was here he related back to the start of the story, staring the council in the eyes as he told of how he lay in hiding as Amon was destroyed, hibernating while he recovered, only to wake up completely disconnected from the world.

And afterwards he told of the Humans - but he didn't call them humans. That wouldn't have gone down well. Instead he decided to rechristen them the Kel-Morians, after the (predominately) skilled engineers and mechanics of that particular faction.

Of course that was only if he remembered right, though it ultimately didn't matter. _He_ made the truths here.

He tried to describe what life was like, or at least what he'd perceived it to be like, deliberately describing the Zerg in a way that would cause the council to draw parallels between to the Rachni. He described how they were capable of overrunning entire planets in a matter of weeks, with their impressive adaptability allowing them to come out on top in most situations.

The Protoss didn't escape unmentioned here, as they were tied in with the Zerg heavily, after all. He honestly sounded like he had managed to convince himself - he deserved a Grammy or whatever the award was, beacuse this was some top notch acting. He described how the Protoss and Kel-Morians would rather turn the surface of entire planets into an uninhabitable molten slag than have the Zerg overtake them, and briefed over their conflicts together, but he contrasted it with how all three had united to combat the 'Reapers', working together to resist their annihilation.

He expanded on his loneliness, of how his severance to the Reapers' control was both his biggest boon and his worst 'decision', but he also mentioned how he was stranded in the 'void', simply phrasing it so that it sounded as if he was floating in dark space, between solar systems, completely unable to communicate with anyone, and how he never knew _exactly_ how the war finished.

It was weak but it would do.

But soon he was out of Starcraft lore, he had nothing new to go on, so he simply made it up. He told of his adventures through the rather empty galaxy, all fake of course, but it was filler, even if it was weak. He spoke of how he'd met fledgling civilisations, how some revered him like a God, while some were hostile and attacked him on sight, while others were more advanced, and had either attempted to communicate with him, or capture him.

But he also spoke of how those same civilisations had grown up, and as they'd grown up he'd had to take more steps to avoid them. To avoid their systems, which were brimming with satellites and other tools. It was here he made the decision to omit most of his knowledge on the Reapers, decided to simply leave the fate of those imaginary civilisations unknown, using the whole 'avoiding capture' excuse as his reason for seeking solitude.

He ended it abruptly, simply stating he found somewhere removed from most current life, and allowed himself to fall into a deep slumber, with his next awakening being in the ruins on Therum, where (presumably) the Protheans had taken him after discovering him while he was hibernating.

From her twisted lips it was obvious Tevos was thinking hard, processing the information like a machine, while the Salarian, whatever his name was, seemed to be positively buzzing with activity. He was probably fantasizing dissecting him; frothing at the mouth to see what his insides looked like.

Probably not actually what he thought but it was more amusing that way.

The Turian, Sparatus, seemed very pensive, as if he was soaking up the information. He honestly had not expected that, as he was supposed to be all hotheaded, all aggressive with no thinking. It really went miles into breaking down the stereotypes he'd built up.

Sparatus was the first to speak up, his gravelly dual-toned voice filling the large chamber surprisingly well.

"So you say that these 'Reapers' actually exist? That you've encountered them before?"

Of course he didn't understand that one. He'd only managed to get by with Shepard based off his memory. Turian on the other hand was completely new.

Actually it was kind of weird they hadn't stopped for a translator first. It felt like it was somebodies fault. Not Shepard's, though. Perhaps somebody who was meant to know better, who was meant to keep Shepard on track, was being lazy.

Oh well. That didn't matter now.

Instead, he waited for Liara to dutifully translate for him, and when he heard it he didn't even have to think about it, instead drawing on knowledge that he had, well, just made up.

"They do exist and they are a threat."

Sparatus seemed satisfied with that answer, it had obviously answered his question. On the other hand, Tevos stepped in with a question of her own. She seemed much less sceptical than she had in the games, so it was fairly obvious he was dealing with 'real' people here, real people who were being supplied with _real_ evidence.

 _'Sorry Shep, if I was the council your 'visions' wouldn't have convinced me either. Though, the whole Geth recording thing would have put me on my toes at least.'_

"So the Reapers _did_ exist, _but_ it is entirely possible that they don't any more?"

She did raise a good question, and it wasn't one he could simply bullshit his way though based off of his story. Instead he actually had to think about this one - he needed to provide logic that everyone could follow, without damning the timeline _too_ badly.

"It's probable, yeah, but we have no way of knowing _when_ they will come, if they have not been disposed of, that is. I do find it hard to believe that they have been destroyed, however, as their opponents would need to be _immensely_ powerful to even have a _tiny_ chance - there are millions of them, and each one is like a flying fortress."

She looked like she had more to ask, but before she could continue with her questioning the Salarian had already stepped in.

 _'Valern. That's his name. Valern...'_

"So you were the first of the 'hybrids'? How did you evade the 'takeover' as you called it? Surely they would have searched for you?"

True to the stereotype he _did_ speak fast - a million words a minute for sure.

It was simply unfortunate he had no idea what he was actually saying. He honestly did feel kind of dumb while he waited for Liara to translate - why _hadn't_ that gone and gotten a translator - it would have made the process several orders of magnitude smoother. He nodded once Liara had finished talking, a universal gesture that was understood almost everywhere.

"I was the first. I think that I avoided the takeover in control because I was 'hibernating' when it occurred, as I recover from my wounds faster when I can divert energy from functions and into the healing pro...cess."

He stumbled over his words, but he didn't think they noticed.

He'd made a mistake.

How was he supposed to know that the control of the hybrids had been seized by the other Reapers once Amon was destroyed.

Regardless he sucked it up and continued, he could always say that he'd flayed the mind of some poor sap after he'd woken up and learned that way.

He built up to his previous levels of bravado, attempting to come in strong after his weak finish, "The Reapers most likely believed me destroyed, as only Amon would have been able to sense me while I was hibernating. With his destruction I believe they only would have been able to sense me if I was active, due to the unique way our mind were connected."

Valern barely spared a moment from when he finished his reply, jumping in immediately, "Did they not care for their 'first' hybrid? Surely you would have been important to them? A symbol perhaps?"

Again, he waited for Liara to translate.

She glanced up at the Councillor, visibly soaking in the question, before turning to him and carefully stating, "Valern would like to know why they wouldn't search for their 'first' creation, as you would have been... important to them."

He glanced up at Valern.

Maar had an answer for this. A _good_ answer.

"The Reapers simply don't care. To them, the only thing that matters is if they managed to eliminate the enemy, and they were willing to sacrifice _anything_ to achieve that, sometimes even themselves. But us, definitely. Without a doubt they would let us be completely annihilated if it would advance their goals more than us being alive. They probably assumed I was dead and not coming back, as Amon liked to keep us close to himself while he was still active. It is unlikely they even knew where I was."

Again with the rapid questions, except this one was spurted from Tevos, meaning of course that no translation was needed.

"So who is 'Amon'? You keep mentioning it, what is it? Who is it?"

He probably should have assumed they would want to know more, and here was a golden opportunity to get the council weary while maintaining plausible deniability.

"Amon was the precursor Reaper. He remained dormant, pulling strings from the shadows and preparing the galaxy for the coming of the Reapers. See, the reapers are capable of dominating the minds of organics, slowly warping their view until what they do benefits the reapers - whether they realise it or not. It is an illusion of free will. Using these agents he pulled apart fragile alliances and burned bridges whenever and wherever he could. Amon created me by fusing together the Protoss and the Zerg, combining what he viewed to be the 'best' of both. We were simply a tool to be used in order to spare the Reapers the 'dirty work'."

Tevos hardened up after that. She was tense, and it was obvious the situation she was picturing was uncomfortable.

There was a longer pause this time, all the councillors obviously taking the time to process the information seriously. In the end, Sparatus spoke up, his dual-tones betraying none of his emotions.

"So they are coming? Without a doubt?"

He waited for Liara's translation. It was honestly quite strange to hear the words, hear the familiar voice yet understand not a single phrase of it. Liara turned to him and relayed Sparatus' question.

"The councillor wants to know if they are definitely coming back." He barely gave Liara any actual attention as she translated it to him, rather focusing on what she was saying. It was honestly a tad frustrating, the conversation kept going in circles.

In that moment he wished everything was as simple as a videogame.

His eyes flickered as he answered them, "If they are still alive, then they are coming. Because I cannot see them being destroyed under any conventional scenarios, I would say they are still alive, and so they are coming. They come out of dark space periodically, that much I know. This means it is not a question of _if_ , it is a question of _when_. It could be a month, it could be a year. It could even be centuries or millennia, yet they will come eventually - if they are alive, that is.

"Not to take away from your credibility, but there really isn't much we can do. Our hands are tied. If what you say is true, then any of our attempts to begin war readiness would be picked up by their agents and they may take a more aggressive stance. We may even make the situation worse - our decisions may be influenced so that we make the 'wrong' ones, or the people carrying out their duties may be working under the Reapers themselves."

That was Tevos. Ever the diplomat. She'd quite literally said nothing, she may have well just said nothing, as what she'd said pretty much amounted to 'we can't help even if we want to'.

It was a bummer, but at least they'd acknowledged the threat of the reapers. Perhaps some mistakes may be avoided.

He'd count this as a tentative win - he had managed to get the council thinking by saying nothing at all himself (nothing of substance, anyway). His history was all fine and dandy, but he could have literally said nothing other than the parts about the Reapers and had the same effect.

Sparatus began speaking again, Liara didn't bother translating. Instead, Shepard simply beckoned for him to follow and walked out. He was vaguely aware of the muted, yet heated, discussion that was roaring behind them, the three councillors meticulously running through possible moves, attempting to navigate the chessboard the Reapers had set up without triggering their traps.

The scenery was much less interesting on their way out. The grand archways no longer held the same interest that they previously did; the conversation with the council had brought the depressing fact that all of this was of the Reapers doing.

Sure the furnishings were all placed down by the denizens of the Milky Way, but it ultimately boiled down to the fact that the Reapers had done all this to harvest space-faring races more efficiently.

They didn't leave the way they'd came. Shepard had lived up to his namesake, leading them back through the council chambers and into... an elevator.

It was time to see if the fabled 'slow elevators' were actually just due to to them being slow, or if it was a sly trick to cover up long loading times.

Shepard simply stood there stoically. The elevator had started to move, and judging by the window behind them it was actually moving quite rapidly.

That was when the vertigo kicked in.

They were a long way up. No wonder it took such a long damn time to travel in it - they must have been almost a kilometre in there air - it was a very large distance. He didn't doubt that anyone falling out of this elevator was unlikely to ever get back up.

His swaying head was interrupted by the chiming of the elevator.

It didn't even feel like it had stopped, and for that matter, it hadn't really felt like it had started either. That was pretty fancy.

Shepard stepped out decisively, like it was his right to step out of the elevator. He looked at Liara, and she must have picked up on his confusion, because she answered his unasked question.

"We're going to get you a translator. It should make this a bit more bearable."

* * *

They were well into the markets of the citadel now. It was worse than the multi-level shopping centre back home - this was a verifiable labyrinth. They'd been walking for what felt like hours, yet it was probably much shorter.

"Shepard, sorry to question you, but where are we going? We must have passed a dozen stores now that sell omnitools." He really was sorry. Questioning people was one _really_ quick way to get on their 'shit-list', so to speak.

"Well you don't have armour, so we can't really just go and pickup one of the one-size-fits all models. Besides, the junk they sell here couldn't do more than produce a weak incinerate. Maybe run a few simply programs as well. There's a reason they are civilian models. Besides, I want to get you a Krogan one."

He waited patiently while Liara translated. Hopefully she wouldn't have to for longer. The civilian-model-thing made sense, but why couldn't they just pick up one of the strap on models and be done with it? That line of thinking actually brought him to a question that he really, really wanted to know the answer to.

"Shepard, where do these 'hanar' wear their omnitools?"

Shepard didn't stop walking. He didn't even pause. He took it in his stride like he was asked that question every day.

"I really don't know. Why don't you just look for an answer on the brand new omnitool that I am about to buy you?"

Once again, Maar waited for the translation from Liara. He nodded in understand once she'd finished, the universal body language for 'I understand'. It honestly sounded as though Shepard was being snarky.

He did deserve it, though.

Maybe he would just search it up - get Liara or someone to show him how to use it.

Actually, scratch that. Perhaps Wrex could show him. He would either not answer or give him the 'dumbed-down' explanation that he would actually be able to understand. Things were much simpler to work out when they were explained in a simple way.

He glanced to his right and something immediately caught his eye. There seemed to be some teenager dressed in a hoodie and faded jeans arguing with frustrated looking Asari.

"No I don't want your clothes! What is wrong with you human?"

"Please they have to be worth something!"

Maar didn't give it much attention after that, tuning back into his adventure with Shepard. Hopefully they would reach their destination soon, since he was fairly sure everyone's patience was beginning to wear thin.

* * *

 **If I ever completely stop writing this story I will let you know. Otherwise assume something is coming eventually**


End file.
